Rite of Passage
by Joon
Summary: Like any teenager, Harry had a difficult period and made bad choices. TVverse. COMPLETE.
1. Chapter 1

I seem to have gotten addicted to writing Dresden Fic. Anyway, here's a short fic dealing with Harry's teen years.

* * *

"This is SO not fair!" Harry protested. "I'm just taking her out to a movie, not taking her to some virgin sacrifice!"

Bob didn't rise to the retort the last comment was just asking for. From behind his desk, Justin Morningway barely seemed to register the near tantrum his nephew was on the verge of throwing as he kept his tones docile to the point of indifference.

"That is my final word on this, Harry. Take the offer or forget going out at all," he advised.

Glowering from underneath his fringe of hair, the 15-year-old clenched his teeth. "Fine," he said, shortly.

Morningway nodded and returned to the papers he'd been looking through when his nephew had all but burst into the study. "I expect you home by 11pm."

"Yeah, whatever."

"Excuse me?"

"Yes, sir," Harry said, tightly.

Nodding, Morningway gestured to the skull that Harry snatched from its normal place on his uncle's desk. The teenager didn't slow his pace in leaving, despite the fact he'd managed to yank the ghost attached to the skull halfway across the room in his furious exit. Slamming the door for dramatic effect, the young wizard left Bob to hurdle through it.

"You could have said something!" Harry snapped as he kept up his rapid march.

"What exactly would you have me do?" asked Bob, keeping his pace with the teen. Harry had experienced a growth spurt in the last year, making him the same height now as his ghostly teacher. And he was still growing. "I can't very well refuse your uncle."

"You could have told him that it's just a simple date," Harry replied, darkly. "Everyone my age goes out on them without a chaperone. It's NORMAL."

"I don't think advocating normality would have been the best course of action," said Bob, who had an idea of Morningway's opinion on being normal.

"Then what would have been the best course of action?" Harry demanded as they finally reached the study room. While he didn't slam the skull down on the table, he only just about stopped himself. "I can't believe Uncle Justin wants me to take you on my date. What kind of freak thing is that?"

Bob sighed at the display. Harry seemed to have reached the age in children when everything and anything was the fault of adults. The ghost sincerely hoped the stage would pass as quickly as possible.

"Harry, this is hardly ideal for me either," he said. The teen snorted as he threw himself down on a chair. "I'd already explained to your uncle that it wasn't like I could do anything should you misbehave."

"Oh, god," Harry muttered.

"But he felt my presence was necessary to keep you in line," he finished.

"What does Uncle Justin think I'm going to do?" Harry asked. "I'm taking Amy to a movie and that's it. I'm not going to light fire rings around the theater or anything. And for this he's having you spy on us?"

Truth be told, Bob agreed with Harry's protest that he should just be left alone to enjoy an evening with this girl he had met. The ghost certainly didn't think Harry would do anything improper and had a suspicion that Morningway didn't either. Rather, it was the fact that the girl was a normal human as opposed to a budding wizard that had Harry's uncle wanting them monitored. Either way, spending an evening having to watch Harry navigate the awkward waters of adolescent dating was not exactly Bob's idea of an enjoyable night.

"There's nothing either of us can do to change your uncle's mind so you might as well try and make the best of it."

"Which is what? I take you with me, you spy on us and then when Uncle Justin orders you to, you tell him everything?"

"Is there something you were planning on doing that would not be fit for your uncle's knowledge?" asked Bob with a raised eyebrow.

"No!" Harry snapped, glowering. "But is privacy too much to ask?"

"Just pretend I'm not there."

"Great, perfect," the teen muttered.

* * *

It was Harry's opinion that becoming a teenager was difficult enough to begin with. Not being able to do all the things he'd been looking forward to, that his father had once told him were the great things about being a teenager, was starting to wear on his nerves.

It was a miracle to begin with that he'd managed to meet someone who was normal after all the dinner parties his uncle had forced him to attend wherein he'd met people his own age, but no one remotely interesting.

Even if he had, it hardly seemed to matter. While everyone around him treated him politely, it seemed there was some sort of invisible sign around Harry's neck that read "APPROACH WITH CAUTION." The second people found out who he was, there was a definite change in the way they spoke to him. Everyone got a little more guarded. A little more wary. The teen wasn't sure if it had to do with his uncle or the fact that he was a poor relative his very rich, influential uncle had taken in. Maybe both.

Either way, it currently sucked to be Harry Dresden in the wizarding world.

Which was why it had been so nice to talk to someone who didn't know anything about magic or his history and family. At least, nothing he wasn't going to share.

On a rare day when Harry had gone into town on his own after his lessons, he'd run into Amy when the girl's bike chain had broken, causing her to nearly skid into Harry. The taller teen had hunched over the completely snapped piece to shied from her the "repair" job he did on what he said was just a loose chain. She'd been incredibly grateful and been more than happy to accept his invitation to grab pizza.

That had been earlier this week. Tomorrow they'd arranged to go to a movie. It had only been after he made the plans that it dawned on him that he would have to actually get his uncle's permission to go out. And when he had asked, his uncle's condition that Harry only go should he take his dead tutor with him as an unofficial chaperone, was not met with the best of reactions.

Somewhere in the back of Harry's mind, he knew it wasn't Bob's fault. Uncle Justin owned the skull and by those rights, the ghost had to obey. But seeing as how the teen couldn't vent on his uncle, he took the next available option.

Their day's lesson had been one conducted in near stony silence on Harry's part. Any verbal diatribe the teen was holding in was being released in his magic during the practical applications portion of the lesson. The ghost remained nonplussed as he watched a few roses in the garden burst into flames, past the firewood log that had been Harry's intended target.

"I believe you over shot it a little," remarked the spectral teacher, resolutely refusing to pay heed to the magical outbursts from Harry. "Try again."

Harry flexed his hand angrily at the log that burst into flames that rose up nearly five feet in the air before smoldering down. The smoke from the burning wood made the teen's eyes tear up. He glared over at Bob who seemed unimpressed by the overkill of the fire and unaffected by the resulting fumes.

"Very nice," said the ghost. "I'm sure your uncle will learn his lesson when you've burned the house down."

"Oh, shut up Bob!" Harry all but shouted. He moved to open up a window. "I did the damn spell."

"Language," he reprimanded.

"Whatever. Are we done?" Harry asked. "I should get ready to meet Amy. Oh and YOU need to get ready for surveillance," he added.

Sighing, Bob watched the smoke tumble out the window. He'd have done anything to be able to follow those clouds, straight out of this room and away from the teenage brat that seemed to have replaced his normal pupil for the past several months that felt like years.

"Harry, I know you may not believe it," said the ghost. "But this is not the end of the world."

"Like you know anything about dating," Harry growled before leaving the study room in a huff.

Watching him leave, Bob wondered if there was a way to age Harry ten years in one day so that tomorrow he'd be in his 20's and well past this stage.

With two hours to go before having to leave the house, Harry debated on just canceling. But that seemed like giving in to his uncle and the teen couldn't have that.

Still, the idea of going ahead and taking the skull with him on his date also felt like giving in. Not only that, Harry wasn't kidding when he said he had wanted privacy. It wasn't that he'd be doing anything improper, but what if he and Amy….kissed…or something and Bob saw it. He'd have to report it to Uncle Justin and the idea of that was seven kinds of uncomfortable.

If only there was a way to keep Bob from seeing and hearing from within his skull. After all, if the ghost didn't know anything, he couldn't report anything.

From his room, Harry flipped through the aged books that he often consulted by his desk for the seemingly endless amounts of homework Bob gave him. He remembered seeing something about an Amens spell that was supposed to block the senses. Granted, the spell was designed for living beings, not ghosts. But maybe it could be modified.

Sitting down at his desk, Harry began to flip through.

* * *

Harry glanced over at the clock. He had about twenty minutes to finish. Gripping the marker in his hand, the teen pressed his lips together as he wrote out the symbols. Really, this should have been done with paint on silk. He'd just have to settle with permanent marker and the torn strip from his spare pillowcase. Flipping the pages of one dusty tome, the teen quickly did a few calculations in his head and wrote the appropriate sigils out on the cloth. He took a last look and then rolled the strip into his pocket.

Much to his annoyance, Uncle Justin actually came out of the office to see him off and watch him pack Bob's skull. With pointed deliberation, Harry picked up the skull and pushed it into his backpack, nestled next to his jacket and wallet.

"Remember, 11pm," said Morningway.

"Yes, Uncle Justin," Harry replied as he all but ran out the door. Pushing off on his bike, the teen quickly sped his way to town. As he approached the movie theater, he saw Amy already there and waiting for him outside. He skidded to a halt on the corner, making sure he was out of sight from both her and anyone else passing by. He pulled the marked strip from his pocket.

Unfolding the cloth, Harry hesitated for a brief moment. He hadn't tested this spell, though he'd gotten all the sigils and calculations from the texts. All the symbols related to it were geared toward dampening down a person's senses and he'd only combined that with a ghost-binding spell he'd found. Slipping the backpack from his shoulders, Harry unzipped it quickly, haste pushing out any second thoughts.

Rapidly, he wound the cloth around the entirety of the skull. When he connected to two ends of the strip, there was a soft clang, like a heavy lock going into place. The black symbols written on the former pillowcase glowed briefly.

"Bob?" Harry tried, experimentally. "Can you come out for a second?"

Nothing.

The teen called out to the ghost a few more times to be sure. When nothing emerged, he re-zipped the bag with a satisfied grin. Re-shouldering the bag, he walked over to the theater.

* * *

What the movie was about, Harry couldn't recall. He'd spent the first half trying to figure out if attempting to hold Amy's hand would be met with resistance. He got his answer when the girl in question grabbed his. In hindsight, it probably had something to do with the fact that they were watching a horror movie. Sometime after the obviously very fake vampire had bitten the overacting heroine, Harry's silent question as to whether or not he should try for a kiss also got answered in a similar fashion. Harry didn't think of much of anything else other than how soft a person's lips could be during the rest of the movie. He was still grinning when the credits started to roll.

"How about some food? Late-night style?" Amy suggested as they exited the theater. "There's a diner around the corner."

Glancing at his watch, Harry saw it was only 10pm. He had plenty of time before he had to get back. "Sure," he replied, taking her hand. The gesture felt so natural, he wondered why it was he'd debating so much in his mind about doing it before.

* * *

"How do you DO that?" asked Amy, half laughing. She turned over the scrap of paper where she'd written 'pineapple.' The word Harry had just guessed she'd written.

"I'm psychic," Harry answered, taking a sip of his coke.

She shook her head, uncomprehendingly impressed as she pushed the paper over to the other two scraps Harry had named correctly. "Seriously. It's like magic."

"Actually, it's not," the teen allowed with a resigning smile. "It's just about observation and educated guessing. I saw your eyes look at the fruit bowl over there before you wrote down the word," he explained, pointing to the counter. "Apple, orange and banana are too obvious so I guessed you picked pineapple."

"What about 'helicopter'?"

"You looked over at that guy. His backpack patch has one on it. And it's the only thing of style to note about him. We won't even talk about that Members Only jacket."

Amy chuckled. "And 'zombie'?"

"Now, that was magic," said Harry. Amy smacked his arm. "Come on, we just watched a horror movie. What were you going to pick? Vampire? Too obvious."

"Are you always this clever?" she asked.

"Only when I'm trying to make a good impression."

They continued to chat, sharing a plate of fries. It was a quarter to 11pm when Harry sadly signaled for the check.

"I had a great time, Harry," said Amy as a bleary-eyed waitress dropped off the bill.

"Me too," Harry replied sincerely, moving to retrieve his wallet from his backpack.

"So…do you want to do it again sometime?"

Harry opened his mouth to answer to that yes, yes, he'd love to do it again sometime and by sometime he meant next weekend. But the words died when he opened his bag and noticed something.

Next to his wallet and jacket was the empty space that should have been occupied by an ancient skull.

"Oh my god!" Harry exclaimed.

"What?" Amy asked, startled.

The teen dropped down to look under the table, his mind already telling him there was no way the skull could have dropped down there since he hadn't opened his bag since they entered the diner. Clambering back up, he dug his wallet out to pay and get out of there.

"Oh god, oh god," he muttered, fumbling with the bills.

"Harry, what is it? What's wrong?" Amy asked again as she watched him throw down double of what was written on the check.

"I have to go back to the theater. I left…something there," he said, quickly.

"What? What did you leave?"

"Please, we just need to get to the theater," Harry pleaded.

Five minutes later, he was racing up to the Pavilion with Amy rushing behind him. The normally lit signs were now shut off. The ticket booth's blind was drawn down and the entire interior was dark.

"Harry, it's closed," she stated, logically as Harry tested a locked door. "Look, I'm sure they have a lost and found. Why don't you come back in the morning?" she suggested.

But the locked door was now somehow unlocked as Harry yanked it open. He rushed in, ignoring Amy's call after him that he couldn't break and enter.

"Bob!" he called, running into the empty pitch black theater that they had been sitting in an hour ago.

_What am I shouting for? He can't hear me. I put a spell on the skull. Stupid, stupid!_

He couldn't find a light switch nor could he see anything in the darkness. Murmuring a word, he conjured a very small sphere of light in his hand to give some illumination. He made his way over to the row where he'd sat with Amy and got down on his hands and knees to peer on the floor, ignoring the fact his jeans seemed to be sticking to the ground.

Other than the layer of congealed soft drinks that coated the floor, the area was swept clean of anything else. There was nothing.

"Where is he?" Harry whispered. He remembered putting his backpack in the seat next to him. No one sat in the seat next to it and he'd never once opened the bag. How could it have fallen out?

"Kid, what the hell do you think you're doing?" a voice demanded.

Harry bolted up and looked at the doorway where a man stood with a worried looking Amy. "Are you the theater manager?" he asked, getting to his feet.

"I'm the guy whose going to call the cops if you don't tell me why you broke in here," the man replied, angrily.

"When you were sweeping up, did anyone find…." he trailed off. What was he going to say? Did anyone find a decorated human skull wrapped in a ripped pillowcase? "Did anyone find anything?"

The manager shook his head, indicating his exasperation rather than as an answer to his question. He grabbed the teen's shoulder. "Alright, that's it. Both of you come with me."

As Amy began to protest, Harry shrugged off the hand. "Did you find a skull?" he asked, point blank.

"What?" asked the manager.

"What?" echoed Amy.

"It's…it's a skull. It has a bunch of markings on it," Harry described.

"Kid, I don't know what prank you're pulling-"

"I'm not pulling a prank!" Harry interrupted. "I'm serious. Did anyone find it? It's a family heirloom and I can't lose it!"

"No," the manager answered. "We didn't find a skull. Satisfied?" A look of desolation washed over Harry's face. "Now, you're both coming with me," he ordered. "Damn kids."

The police opted to escort Harry back to his house.

While lectures had been given out and warnings issued to both teens, Harry barely registered the luck he was having that the manager wasn't going to press charges as an inspection showed nothing was technically broken. Nor did he register the look Amy gave him as one of the officers ushered her out to take her home.

His mind was busy fathoming where Bob was.

_What if my spell accidentally made the skull vanish?_ Harry thought. _Why did I even do that stupid spell without testing it first? You're a real genius, Dresden. What the hell is wrong with me?_

Looking out the window from the backseat of the police car, he willed them to go faster. Uncle Justin was going to kill him once they got home, but the sooner they got there and the sooner Harry told him, the sooner they could start looking for the missing ghost.

Bob had told Harry himself that his uncle had a way of tracking the skull. He hung onto the hope that maybe someone had stolen the prized skull instead. It seemed the more logical option, though it hardly made Harry feel any better.

_What if whoever stole Bob has a way of hiding him?_ Harry wondered. _If I hadn't made it so that he couldn't see what was happening, he could have warned me. I could have stopped it._

Unwilling to stop, his imagination and speculation continued to leap forward. _What if someone just wants revenge and that's why they stole it? They saw the Amens spell I did and knew Bob wouldn't be able to come out to warn me. _

Uncle Justin had told him once that Bob's crime was unspeakably horrible enough to have him be imprisoned in the bones. _Maybe they just took him to destroy him. All they would have to do is breakdown the protection wards on the skull and then smash it. _

The full impact of what his actions might result in hit Harry full force and the sheer guilt and fear of it weighed down on him like a boulder.


	2. Chapter 2

Last part! Thank you for reading. As always, feedback? Love it.

* * *

It was well past 11pm by the time Harry, flanked by two police officers rang the front door of the house. But missing his curfew seemed to be the least of Harry's worries at the moment.

Despite the late hour, Justin Morningway answered the door wearing his suit. In the midst of the maelstorm that was going on in his mind, Harry feebly realized that he'd never actually seen his uncle wearing anything else.

"Good evening, sir," greeted the cop on Harry's right. "Are you Justin Morningway?"

"Yes," he answered, his eyes flickering from the officer to Harry, who mentally wished for things to speed up.

"Sir, your nephew was found by the theater manager of the Pavilion in town, breaking and entering."

"I see."

"Mr. Essex is not pursuing any legal action as nothing was broken or damaged," the officer assured, though it hardly looked like Morningway needed assurance. "Just a warning this time. But perhaps you should have a word with your nephew," he added, barely keeping the irritated tone.

Harry knew that by looking at the house and at Uncle Justin, the cop had pretty much pegged him to be a bored rich kid who got off causing minor trouble and generally wasting everyone's time.

"Of course," Morningway agreed, genially. "Thank you, officers for all you've done. I apologize for my nephew's behavior. It won't happen again. Will it, Harry?"

"No, definitely not," Harry said, quickly, not caring about the smug look on the cop's face. He just wanted this to be over and done with so he could tell his uncle about losing Bob. He rushed in to the house when his uncle moved aside to give him room and waited as Morningway bid the officers goodnight and re-affirmed that he would have a serious discussion with his wayward charge. The minute the door closed, Harry leapt forward.

"Uncle Justin-"

"You do realize the time?" his uncle interrupted. The sheer absurdity of a missed curfew nearly made the teen laugh had it not been for the gravity of the situation.

"Punish me all you want," he said, quickly. "But we have a much larger problem. I lost Bob's skull."

"You lost the skull?" Morningway repeated, slowly, his green eyes unreadable.

"I don't know what happened," said Harry. "But he's gone! The skull was in my bag and it was only later after I'd left the theater that I realized it was missing. I went back to look for him and nothing. Someone's taken him!"

"Harry, calm down," Morningway ordered. "I'm sure if he was about to be stolen, Bob would have said something."

"But that's just it," Harry continued, mournfully. "He couldn't. I put a spell on the skull to dampen down his senses. He wouldn't have been able to tell if someone was taking him. Or even come out if he could." He looked at his uncle, who stared back at Harry, silently. "Please, Uncle Justin. Punish me however you want, but please, you have to find him!" he pleaded. "You said you had a way of tracking the skull, right?"

The unchanging expression on his uncle's face didn't give Harry much comfort. Instead, the older man grasped the teen's arm to direct him to toward his study. "Come with me. Explain to me this spell you put on the skull."

"I modified an Amens spell," Harry explained, hurrying down the hall with his uncle. "I merged it with the cohibeo spell so that it would work on a spirit. I can show you the specific runes I used if that'll help," he said rapidly.

Morningway pushed open his study door. "That won't be necessary."

A low fire was burning in the vast fireplace next to his uncle's desk. Sitting on the desk in its usual place, was Bob's skull, still wrapped in the torn pillowcase strip.

"You have it!" Harry exclaimed. "I…how?!"

"You honestly think I would let something as valuable as the skull walk out of here with you without taking some precautions?" asked Morningway, scornfully. "I was alerted the minute you cast that makeshift spell of yours."

"But...how did you get the skull?" Harry asked.

"The skull is my property. I have rights to it," said Morningway as a means of explanation. While the teen wanted details, he was too relieved to see the skull safe to press the issue. He moved toward the desk to take off the cloth when a hand clamped down on his arm, forcefully pushing him back.

"Stay where you are," Morningway commanded, his voice hard. "I'm not done speaking to you yet."

Stumbling backwards, the teen braced himself for the verbal fury that was no doubt going to rain down on him. But the adrenaline of knowing Bob was no longer lost did wonders to soothe over any apprehension.

"I've been studying this spell since I retrieved the skull," said Morningway, leaning against his desk. "Where did you learn this?"

"I didn't learn it," Harry said, quietly. "I made it up."

"You made it up?"

"Yes."

Morningway paused. When Harry dared to glance up, he saw there was more a curious look on his uncle's face rather than blatant anger. But the look soon vanished back into that unreadable mask. "Do you know what an Amens spell does to a human?" Morningway asked.

"It dampens the senses," Harry answered.

"It robs them of their five senses completely," his uncle corrected. "You can't see, feel, hear, smell or taste. It's like you're without a body. Some find it peaceful. Others are driven mad by it if they're under the thrall for too long." Harry shifted uncomfortably.

"I won't deny your ability to come up with this spell at your age is clever," Morningway continued, mildly. "But it's hardly original. Spells like this were cast on ghosts long before as a means of alleviating hauntings if they could not be exorcised completely. It causes spirits to lose their place in this world. They couldn't haunt what they could not see or hear. But this binding element you threw in. That's new. Explain that to me. How did you do that?"

While his uncle no longer sounded upset, Harry grew mortified at what he was being told. "Uncle Justin, the spell's been on Bob for hours! Take off the cloth!" He moved forward to do it himself, when he felt an invisible force push him back from his approach.

Morningway's green eyes glittered coldly. "I asked you a question."

"But you just said it made ghosts….why did you leave it on?" Harry protested. "Uncle Justin, please."

"I'm still waiting for you to answer my question."

The teen moved to argue again when he realized he was just wasting time. His uncle wasn't going to give into him. Ever. He had all the time in the world to argue with his nephew if he so wished. Bob didn't have that luxury.

"It's the last four runes on the cloth," Harry explained, pointing to the strip. "I inverted them from the cohibeo spell. When it attaches to the first half of the Amens and the rune carved next to the left eye socket of the skull. It locks everything in."

The older man picked up the skull. He made a speculative sound in the back of his throat as he studied the symbols on the cloth and how they connected with the ones on the bones.

"Uncle Justin, please, let him out."

Morningway looked over at his nephew at the plaintive request. The firelight cast a sheen over his glasses and all Harry could see were the whites of the light that hid his uncle's eyes from view. But the older man's lips tilted into the barest hint of a smile as he finally pulled off the strip.

There was an audible click of a lock coming undone. The minute the skull was released, a spark of orange pushed out from its forehead and the familiar shape formed quickly next to Morningway.

While it was brief, Harry could see the near frantic expression on the ghost's face, like a man who'd been holding his breath for too long and was only now allowed to take in some air. The spirit glared contemptuously at Morningway by default, who gave him a mild look back, still holding onto the cloth Harry had written out.

"I suppose there's no need to ask if you taught him this," said Morningway with a smirk. Bob's eyes fell to the strip in his keeper's hand. He recognized the handwriting. "It would be too ironic if you had."

"Bob, I'm sorry," Harry apologized when the ghost looked over at him. "I didn't know…I didn't think…"

"Explain why you felt the need to cast this spell," Morningway ordered.

"I wanted to just spend some time alone with Amy," Harry explained. How was it that his uncle was making him feel like that was wrong?

"Did it ever enter your mind that it would be prudent to test this new spell of yours before casting it?" Morningway asked.

"Yes," Harry replied, sincerely, addressing his response to the ghost who still hadn't said anything on the matter.

"So, by your words, it did occur to you that the spell might not be ready yet to cast. But you did it anyway on the skull because you felt your priorities for the evening were more important," his uncle surmised.

"No, it wasn't like that," the teen argued, though already he was halfway agreeing with his uncle's take on it. As awful as it made him sound, Harry realized that was pretty much what had happened. He just felt the need to try and explain himself a little more. If anything because he hated the way Bob was looking at him.

For his part, Uncle Justin looked nonplussed. "He's already creating spells on his own when properly motivated," he addressed the ghost. "If you're not careful, he may surpass us all," he added with a grin.

"Yes," Bob answered, shortly, keeping his gaze on the teen.

While Bob didn't look particularly angry at Harry, there was something else in the pale eyes as he regarded him that to the teen felt worse. It was as if the ghost had assessed something about him and things now would be different. Standing only a few feet away, Harry suddenly felt there were miles distancing him from the ghost.

"Bob, I didn't know what I was doing," he said, rapidly, trying to close the chasm opening between them. "It's not an excuse, but I wasn't thinking and I stupidly did the spell without-"

"Harry, that's enough," Morningway said, firmly.

A cold snake twisted within Harry's stomach as the ghost remained silent. "Bob, please, I'm sorry-"

"Harry, stop," his uncle ordered. "I'm more disturbed by your recklessness and lack of adherence to my rules than the spell it self."

Harry barely caught himself from giving his uncle a nasty glare. Who the hell cared what he thought? He only wished his uncle would leave them alone so he could just explain to Bob he hadn't meant to trap and torture the ghost in his own skull like that.

"Sorry, Uncle Justin," he managed to grind out.

"Your interactions with that girl are to cease immediately," said Morningway. "You are not to take phone calls from her or arrange to meet with her again. You also will remain on the grounds of this house until further notice."

Later, when Harry would have some time to process everything, he realized his uncle was probably almost glad to have this excuse to isolate him inside the house and away from anyone who wasn't a part of their world. While in the years he'd been living with his uncle, Harry had adapted quickly to his magical surroundings, a part of him had always remained firmly rooted to the normal world and at times even yearned for it. The world that he had shared with his father. Now there would be one less foothold.

But at the moment, all Harry wanted was to fix whatever he had broken between himself and his teacher.

"Do you understand what I'm telling you?" Morningway asked.

"Yes, Uncle Justin," Harry answered.

"Go to bed."

The teen hesitated, wanting to at least get one minute alone to talk to the ghost, but his uncle looked expectedly at him, the skull still in his hand. Seeing it was a lost battle, Harry nodded and sadly left.

* * *

Despite having a bad night's sleep, Harry was up by 8am, which was a good two hours before his usual wake up time on the weekends. It was a Saturday, which meant he was free from any lessons until noon. Normally, he would have ridden his bike into town before then, but now since he was grounded, he had four hours to kill. Or rather, four hours to agonize.

The texts he'd used the night before were still open to the appropriate pages on his desk along with unfinished homework Bob had assigned him. Usually Harry scribbled them out about an hour before his lessons, much to his spectral tutor's chagrin. But seeing as he had nothing to do, the teen sat down and attempted to get some work done.

His mind, however, kept flipping back to the previous evening. If Bob had been furious at Harry, scolded him or even shown anything on his face to indicate his anger, he would have felt better. Anger, he could handle. But there had been something fundamentally removed about the ghost's expression. Something akin to indifference and the thought of that made Harry's chest tighten.

Almost an hour later as he continued to try and put extra care into his assignments, Harry heard the phone ring downstairs. Uncle Justin had his own line that led directly to his study where almost all of his calls went. The main line was open mainly for guests to use when visiting and recently any calls for Harry. After several rings, the line went silent. The teen wondered if it had been Amy.

_It doesn't matter,_ he thought. _I'll never see her again. I'll never even get to talk to her again. _It was better that he forgot about her.

* * *

Harry stayed in his room, re-doing his essay three times over throughout the morning. He hadn't seen or spoken to Uncle Justin yet, which wasn't unusual. He hadn't seen or spoken to Bob yet either, which again, wasn't so unusual these days. But today, the utter silence had a particularly isolating effect on the teen. He hadn't felt this kind of loneliness in awhile. He had been reaching a point when he had been starting to take for granted never feeling it again.

At a quarter to noon, he ventured downstairs to get something to eat before his lesson.

The ghost was waiting for him as per usual. The feeling Harry had the night before of being separated from Bob by miles remained.

"Hi, Bob," Harry greeted nervously. He hung back by the door.

"Are you going to stand there all day?" inquired Bob, mildly.

"Uh, no." He quickly entered the room and spread out the pages he'd spent all morning on. "Here's my essay."

"I'll read it over while you start today's lesson," said Bob. "Please draw out the elements for a transmutation spell on the board," he instructed.

Obediently, Harry walked over and picked up the chalk while the ghost leaned down to read the pages the teen had spread across the table. Harry got as far as pressing the chalk to the blackboard before he spun around.

"Bob, we have to talk."

The ghost looked up from his reading, his expression blank. "Talk?"

"I'm so, SO sorry," Harry stressed. "I was stupid and I was careless. I never should have done that spell."

"It's fine," Bob replied.

"No, it's not," Harry persisted.

"You didn't do anything wrong," the ghost explained, patiently. "You didn't use any black magic, you didn't endanger any lives and you didn't expose any magical element to the outside world. If anything your spell kept things under additional wraps."

"But it's not fine," Harry said. "I endangered your life."

"I'm dead. It doesn't count."

"Yes, it does. Of course it does," insisted Harry. "Bob, I know you're upset with me. Please, just tell me what I can do to fix this."

The ghost blinked, laconically. "You're getting yourself worked up. There's nothing to fix." The teen could see that it was true, Bob didn't look upset. But his general demeanor was similar to how it was whenever the ghost was speaking to Uncle Justin. And the idea that the spirit was equating him with his uncle made Harry all the more nervous.

"Things are different now though," said the teen, gripping the chalk in his hand. "You're not…you're not looking at me the same way as before.

"Of course things are going to be different," replied Bob. "Time is passing, you're growing older." The first time since the conversation began, Harry could finally hear some small amount of emotion creeping into the ghost's voice.

"What do you mean by that?" he asked.

"You're growing up," the ghost restated, his pale eyes unmoved. "You're growing into the world your uncle has envisioned for you. One of power. It's only natural that the time is coming when you will start asserting what you want and going after it."

"You mean be ruthless like Uncle Justin?" Harry demanded. "I'll never be like that!"

"It's a natural progression for wizards of your family's ilk. You use the tools available to you. There's nothing wrong with it," the spirit reiterated, coldly.

"Stop saying that!" the teen protested, getting increasingly upset. He willed himself not to get hysterical, but the lack of effect his words were having on his teacher had desperation clawing at him. "Of course it's wrong. It's completely wrong if you're going to look at me like that."

"Look at you like what?"

"Like you don't care anymore," said Harry, feeling vaguely pathetic, but not caring at this point. "Bob, you're staring at me the way you stare at Uncle Justin. And I know you don't like him because he orders you around like some slave. I wouldn't ever do that. Ever. You're my friend."

The ghost's expression shifted slightly as he crouched down to where the desolate teen sat. "Harry," he began, quietly. The addressing of his name alone gave Harry a faint glimmer of hope.

"It doesn't matter what spell I did," Harry said, earnestly. "I shouldn't have done one on you at all. I shouldn't have treated you like that and I'm so, so sorry. I wish I could take it back, but I can't. But I promise I'll never do anything like that ever again."

"It's alright."

"You don't believe me," realized Harry.

"I know you mean it right now," Bob replied, not unkindly. "But you're only 15. The world and your status in it will be very different when you come of age."

"That won't change how I feel about you," Harry insisted. The ghost didn't respond. "How can you think I'd be like that?"

Bob got up with a sigh, walking back toward where his skull sat. "I did not think you would. But that might have been more hope on my part than rationality."

"No, you're right the first time," said Harry, getting up and following. "Bob, last night was only a mistake. A really, really dumb, stupid mistake."

"I'm really the last one to lecture you about right and wrong," started the ghost.

"You don't need to. I know last night was wrong. And I won't do it again," Harry said, firmly.

"Harry, your affections toward me are appreciated," said Bob, gently. "You really have no idea how much. But I have no rights to them."

"That's not true!" Harry began, but the ghost held up a hand to stop the protesting before the teen got a grip on it.

"It is just the nature of things. The world will move forward and people will move on. I, however, cannot and I can't expect those around me to remain static. It is the nature of my punishment."

"Well, screw that," Harry said, flatly. The ghost blinked at him. "Fine, so I'll get older and eventually I'll move away." The teen silently longed for the day he could get out from under his uncle's watch. "That doesn't mean I'll just forget about you. I'll come visit. And maybe one day Uncle Justin will give your skull to me."

Bob raised a skeptical eyebrow.

"Yeah, okay, maybe not," the teen conceded. "But I'll still come see you. And I won't ever treat you the way he does. Even if you think that's normal or expected. I'll prove you wrong."

The ghost gave a slight smile and Harry felt the distance between them close a little. "That's oddly comforting."

Returning the gesture, Harry felt the tightness in his body unwind a little. "So do you accept my apology?"

"Yes, I do."

"Because I really am sorry," Harry reiterated to push out the last of his nervousness. "I had no idea what that spell was going to do to you."

"It was almost worth it if the guilt inspires you to give so much attention to your work," said the ghost, gesturing to Harry's spread paper. "Your essay is unusually well-detailed."

"Maybe I'll hold up the standard," Harry replied, unconvincingly.

"Yes, well, one lives in hope," Bob sighed. "Or not, in my case."

At the familiar look of exasperation on the spirit's face, Harry nearly hugged the skull in relief.

THE END


End file.
